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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476203">Ironically John doesn't like sugar in his coffee</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_kent/pseuds/rory_kent'>rory_kent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sherlock and his daddy [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Bisexual John Watson, Daddy Kink, Drug Use, Little Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Meet-Cute, Older John, Sherlock Has a Military Kink, Subdrop, Subspace, Sugar Daddy John Watson, Twink Sherlock, Unilock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:46:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476203</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_kent/pseuds/rory_kent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>how Sherlock and his daddy met! Coffee Shop AU with lots of fluff</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sherlock and his daddy [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. milk, no sugar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>okay okay, maybe a little ooc sherlock...also, in this AU Mycroft and Mummy Holmes have cut off the money so Sherlock is skint</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The streets of London were busy and the blur of cars and footsteps and shouts filled the coffee shop every time the glass paneled door opened and shut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Portlandia Coffee Roasters. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This place had the best coffee in the whole city, if you asked people who knew these things. Dr. John Watson, CEO of Watson Technologies, wasn’t a big fan of caffeine and it’s negative side effects. But it was going to be a long day, and a little pick-me-up never did anybody any harm. He entered the cafe and felt all eyes turn to him. He was a powerful man, with silvery blonde hair, just turned 45, oh and his mod suit cost more than a month's rent. His shoes shined perfectly and his watch was a subtle brown leather, but if you knew anything about watches you’d be pleasantly impressed. John’s eyes immediately fell on the man behind the counter. An angel with ethereal cheekbones, pale innocent skin and inky curled locks that fell right below his ears. White t-shirt and lovely denims that didn’t leave much to the imagination. A little thin for John’s liking. Bisexual couldn’t begin to describe John Watson when he saw this boy. God, he couldn’t be older than 20. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He approached the counter and saw those silvery blue green eyes. Name tag said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sherlock</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The boy sputtered and his breath hitched when they made eye-contact. He quickly averted his eyes with a blush. John smirked. “What can I get you, sir?” He finally said, and that deep posh baritone sent shivers down the doctor’s back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coffee, sweetheart, milk no sugar,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have th-three coffees in today, s-sir,” The boy swallowed, “Kenyan, Sumatran, and Domincan,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you recommend?” He cocked an eyebrow and gave the boy a warm smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Sumatran is my favourite, sir, we roast it ourselves,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds perfect,” John emphasized the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he pulled out his wallet and pulled out a 50 pound note and his business card, handing them over, “keep the change,” Sherlock’s face turned bright red and he nodded with a small smile on his lips. Jesus, those lips, what those lips could do…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you in University, love?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your coffee, sir,” An American woman with tattoos all up her arms handed him his coffee and gave him a sharp look while Sherlock only blushed profusely. John gave them both a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” John left and felt his chest full of love as he walked to work. God, he wanted that kid. Imagining that milky skin lined with red marks and bites, hair full of sweat, cheeks flushed in after-glow. It was an image that sent all the blood in his body down </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Work was boring- paperwork, board meetings, his assistant being annoying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dr. Watson, there’s a young man on the line, says he knows you but he doesn’t want to elaborate” Jesus, this woman was a meddler. He gave her a sharp look. All his secretaries seemed to want to sleep with him. And this one was no different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put him through, Mary,” her expression darkened but she left and soon the little light on his phone was blinking. John smiled and picked it up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” He said, feigning ignorance of who it could be.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“H-Hi, Doctor Watson, it’s Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes, from the coffee shop,” The voice on the other end sounded nervous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember,” He said with a smile and heard a sigh of relief. “Dinner?” He said and couldn’t help but chuckle at his own forwardness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’d be lovely, sir,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you in dorms, love, or do you have a flat?” The voice on the other end dwindled and John frowned slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, I’m, uh- I’m living above the cafe right now, just until I can find a flat I can afford.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll pick you up around 7, sweetheart, and dress nice. See you tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you tonight,sir” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I prefer Daddy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>&lt;3 this is for my american babies Cal and Grace who make an appearance in this chapter</p><p>also- very mild drug use</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock was on a cloud for the rest of his shift. He had a date! A date! A date with a fascinating former army doctor. Sherlock tried not to think of the money. But he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want John to think he was a whore, but he could really use the money if he was right about Dr. Watson’s expectations. Sugar Daddy. How terribly interesting! Mycroft would be appalled. But...he and Mummy cut Sherlock off because of the drugs, so maybe this was their fault. </p><p>“Sherlock!” He was out of his daze when Grace, the owner of the coffee shop snapped in front of his face. “Sherlock, I know you’re thinking about that rich guy, but how about we try and fantasize <em> while </em>we froth milk, okay?” </p><p>“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m just really nervous. He’s taking me out tonight, I don’t want to disappoint him.” Grace cocked an eyebrow. </p><p>“Sherlock, I know you’re too smart to keep working here. You’re a genius, you should be at MIT or something, but you’re WAY too smart to just be some old guy’s sugar baby, arm candy. He’ll probably make you stop working, maybe even quit school. I really don’t think you should go down this road.” </p><p>Sherlock shook his head, “No, no, he’s not old, and he’s not like that, he’s a good man.” </p><p>“How could you possibly know that?” Grace smirked, ready for a chain of deductions to rattle off. Maybe it was his cufflinks.</p><p>“I don’t know, I just, <em> know.”  </em></p><p>“Oy vey you must be in love.” </p><p><em> Love? </em>Sherlock Holmes was shocked, what the hell was wrong with him? He never blushed, or fantasized about anything but solving murders. He never went on dates! What was going on?</p><p> </p><p>7 oclock came so quickly. Sherlock had showered twice, fixed up his hair and even considered using the tube of mascara that was hiding in the bottom of his drawer. No, no, stupid Sherlock, stop being a girl. He dressed in his best shirt and trousers, carefully tying his dressiest shoes and rubbing his hands down his legs. Get it together Sherlock, get it together. His hands shook terribly, so he popped three little green pills and swallowed them dry. The buzzer rang and Calphurnia, Grace’s wife, opened the door to his room and gave him an encouraging nod. “Knock his socks off, Sherlock Holmes,” </p><p>“Americans,” Sherlock said with an eye roll before giving her a hug. He liked them a lot. Sherlock knew about 13 interesting people. And only 2 interesting Americans. Calphurnia was shy, and sweet, and she knew loads about computers. She had been a TA in Sherlock's comp. sci class. Grace was tough and covered in ink, and Sherlock deduced her backstory was a little less prim and proper. Sherlock always liked girls. They made him feel safe.</p><p>Sherlock shook his head and headed downstairs. The man waiting for him was a god. Blonde hair and tanned skin and kind eyes, and underneath the layer of clothes Sherlock deduced he was strong. Really strong. He blushed when they made eye contact and he stammered out, “Hi,” </p><p>“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” He took a step towards Sherlock.</p><p>“Thank you sir,” Sherlock smiled, John laughed. </p><p>“You can call me John if you’d like, little one,” John brushed his fingers across Sherlock’s cheek, admiring those cheekbones. He leaned in and whispered “But I prefer Daddy,”</p><p>Sherlock’s heart stopped dead in its tracks and his eyes widened. A shiver crawled up his spine and he felt himself start to, um, harden, at the notion. <em> Daddy.  </em></p><p>“Thank you,” Sherlock whispered, “Daddy,” </p><p>“Good lad,” John pulled Sherlock’s hand and guided him outside of the closed coffee shop. Sherlock’s eyes grew wider still when he saw the car. Aston Martin DB5. Dark green.</p><p>“Si-Daddy is that your car?” Sherlock said, his voice soft and high. </p><p>“Yes, baby, you like it?” John opened Sherlock’s door for him and Sherlock slid into the soft cream leather seat. </p><p>“It’s very nice, sir,” Sherlock wasn’t really big on cars, but James Bond? He used to watch all of them growing up. Sean Connery had taught Sherlock all he needed to know about his personal preferences. John circled to the drivers side and slid in, pulling on his black leather driving gloves. </p><p>“Glad to hear that,” He stole a kiss just behind Sherlock’s ear. Sherlock shivered. </p><p>“Afghanistan or Iraq, sir?” The man next to him looked quite startled as he started the car. </p><p>“Afghanistan,” He said with a chuckle, “How’d you know?” </p><p>“Your haircut and the way you stand says military, but you’re a doctor, so army-doctor, and you still have a tan, but not above your wrists or neck, so somewhere sunny, so Afghanistan or Iraq.” Sherlock bit his lip nervously, looking out the window. </p><p>“Brilliant,” John chuckled. Sherlock blushed. That wasn’t so impressive. “What are you studying at school, love?”</p><p>“Chemistry, sir.” </p><p>“Good lad. Might make a doctor out of you yet,” John smiled. Sherlock wrinkled his nose playfully. John rustled his hair a bit and they drove in quiet for a while. They pulled up to a posh looking restaurant and John tossed the keys at the valet. </p><p>He opened Sherlock’s door and put a firm hand low on his back, leading him in. The waitress led them to the table without even asking their name. Sherlock took inventory of all the other customers. Newspaper owner, cabinet minister, actress. Waitress is an actress too. No gigs. Coat check is writing a novel, but his sister is dying. All the thoughts were dizzying, and John gave him a worried look. </p><p>“You’kay, darling?” </p><p>“Yes, I-, I was just thinking,” John nodded quizzically and pulled his chair for him. Sherlock sat gracefully and played with his fingers nervously. John reached and put a steadying hand on his knee. Sherlock looked up quickly, and caught John’s firm but gentle stare. </p><p>“Are you sure you’re alright?” Sherlock nodded and sipped at his water. The waitress came with menus, and Sherlock gave John an affirming smile. </p><p>“I’m fine, sir,” John licked his lips and Sherlock almost fainted at this blonde british sex god. John sipped his wine and nodded. </p><p>“How old are you, Sherlock?” Sherlock looked down nervously. </p><p>“23,” He stammered and John almost laughed. </p><p>“How old are you really, kitten?” </p><p>“18, sir,” John’s heart raced as he chuckled. </p><p>“Christ, I’m old enough to be your father,” John smiled at Sherlock whose eyes were saucers. </p><p>“You don’t mind, sir?” Sherlock was being coy. The dilation of his eyes and the flush in his cheeks-obviously John liked the idea. </p><p>“Not at all, darling,” </p><p>“Have you decided what you’ll have sir?” The waiter asked, almost rolling his eyes at the overheard conversation. Sherlock panicked, he hadn’t even opened the menu.</p><p>“Cantrelle Risotto for me, Aubergine Parmasean for the young man, but we’ll start with brie.” The waiter nodded and scurried along. Sherlock wasn’t sure about John ordering for him, but it was very sweet and gentlemanly. </p><p>“You like animals, sir,” Sherlock mumbled, “Your family estate has sheep,” John chuckled and smiled. Sherlock looked almost, scared, nervous that he’d said his deductions out loud. </p><p>“Go on,” John’s shoe gently touched Sherlock’s ankle, and the younger boy let out a breath. John was entranced by this brilliant boy and his mind. “Explain it to me, I’m interested,” </p><p>“Well, your order, vegetarian, but there are lots of reasons people don’t eat meat- you’re a doctor, maybe it’s your health, but no, every time the waiter comes by with meat, you look slightly angry, your good shoulder tenses up and your pupils contract. So, moral reasons. But rack of lamb puts you sad, not angry, as if you’re sentimentally attached. Not a farm boy, otherwise the killing may not bother you. No, most likely summer home, plus your car, heirloom, there’s an old insurance card under the passenger seat. Watson. But it’s too old to be you, maybe a brother, but what living man would give away that car?</p><p>“No, It was your father’s car-rich father, summer holidays in the country? You come from money. Family estate.” John’s mouth was slightly agape and Sherlock’s face flushed. God, he was such a clot. Once he started smarting off, nobody wanted to be around him. But John only smiled. He chuckled.</p><p>“That was amazing, Sherlock, quite extraordinary.” Sherlock smiled. </p><p>“Really, sir?” </p><p>“Of course, darling, you’re perfect.” Sherlock’s whole being filled with pride. Just the inkling of John’s praise and he was over the moon. It was like being made full and whole and calm, his mind slowed and his heart raced. They ate the rest of dinner. Sherlock didn’t eat much, but he loved listening to John talk about his work. Two tours in Afghanistan, started his pharmaceutical and medical research company, then started volunteering with DWB.</p><p>“Sherlock, have you, ever, been in a relationship?” Sherlock looked down at his hands and shook his head. “No, look at me, nothing to be ashamed of,” Sherlock’s ethereal eyes were shining green as he looked up nervously. “I would very much like to take care of you, Sherlock. Treat you like the precious little boy you are, make sure you never have to be scared about money. It’s not a problem for me. Only thing I’d ask for is your companionship. You can keep your life just the way it is, the cafe, school, the future, I only want to look after you. You can be my arm candy for functions and such, it wouldn’t have to be more than that if you don’t want it to be.” John smiled and took Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock bit his lip. </p><p>“I want it to be,” He whispered.</p><p>“What was that?” </p><p>“I’d, I’d like it to be more, sir,” He said a little louder, blushing furiously. Good God in Heaven, he was so innocent. Sweet little kitten. “Can, we go home, sir?” </p><p>“Of course, love, why don’t you get our coats while I get the check?” Sherlock nodded and scuttled off. John couldn’t help but take a look as he went away. God, that arse was perfect. Once the check was settled, John met him at the coat check, he was smiling, coat on and holding John’s tenderly, like it was made of gold. </p><p>“Good lad, now let’s go,”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. getting settled</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warning- mentions of previous drugs use and self-harm :(</p><p>but daddy makes everything better ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The ride back to the flat was full of traffic and stolen kisses at traffic lights. They pulled into the carpark and were quickly in the lift. John pressed the top button and once the doors closed he stepped closer to Sherlock, who was pressed against the wall. “You’re so beautiful,” He kissed that beautiful neck, once, twice, three times, leaving a trail of marks and bites. “You’re brilliant,” He nibbled his ear a bit, using his hands to grip his wrists, pulling them over his head. Sherlock’s head of beautiful dark curls flew back as he let out a breathy moan. Dear lord, the noises this boy made. Delicious. “Oh you’re such a good boy, Sherlock, my dear Sherlock,” Sherlock let out a little whine when the door opened and John pulled off him. John chuckled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here, love,” Sherlock looked out, the elevator opened right into daddy’s flat. It was sleek and lovely, modern, but charming. A mix of old and new. John was pouring a drink while Sherlock looked around in awe. “We’ll sort through your things tomorrow,” John sat back on his armchair, glass of whiskey in one hand and patted his knee. Sherlock quickly sat in his lap and John practically giggled. Sherlock blushed feverishly as John gripped him by his hip. Sherlock bravely leaned in and kissed his cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy,” he said softly, and felt daddy stiffen beneath him. John’s eyes darkened and he pulled Sherlock until he was straddling him, placing his drink on the side table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, you’re a naughty boy, aren’t you Sherlock,” He pulled him for a dominating kiss, sucking on his bottom lip, carding his fingers through those perfect curls. Sherlock’s eyes fluttered at the touch. John laughed and the lovely noise reverberated through Sherlock’s body, soft and warm. He carefully flicked one button off Sherlock’s shirt, rubbing a hand delicately on his sharp collarbone before pressing kisses along his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy, are we, going to…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not tonight, darling,” John whispered between kisses, “Not until I’m sure you’re ready,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ready now, daddy, please,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said no, Sherlock,” John straightened Sherlock’s collar and looked him softly in the eyes. He placed a chaste kiss on Sherlock’s lips before lifting him up onto the floor. “Come now, you look exhausted, let’s get you in the bath.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John gripped Sherlock by the hand and led him down the hall and into a beautiful bathroom with pink tiles and a mod-looking white tub. John carefully removed Sherlock’s shirt, pulling it over his shoulder and Sherlock reached for his trousers but John swatted his hand. He unzipped him and pulled them off cleanly before chuckling. “No pants? You really are naughty,” Sherlock’s pale cheeks turned a deep crimson as he fiddled with his fingertips. John only laughed, pulling off his ties and rolling up his sleeves. He turned the taps on, checking the water. John poured a pink bubble bath in and Sherlock’s eyes widened as the bath filled with foamy bubbles. It smelt like strawberries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daddy! What is it?” Sherlock gaped at the mountain of bubbles. John cocked an eyebrow at him and gave him a worried look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve never had a bubble bath?” Sherlock felt a little embarrassed but shook his head. His childhood had been cold; nights huddled by himself in the library, his father’s discipline, </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t smart off William, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he shuddered. John gave him soft eyes and took him by the hand, gently leading him into the tub. Sherlock sat and pulled his knees to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax, little one, I’ve got you.” Sherlock felt so tiny, like a child, but John didn’t seem to mind. He gently scrubbed him with a yummy smelling soap, all over his back, chest, and his arms. Track marks and fading self-harm scars. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, Sherlock. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His heart panged with hurt that such a sweet boy would ever do something like that to himself. He squirted shampoo into his hand and began to rub it into Sherlock’s curls. Sherlock hummed gently and leaned into the touch. “Daddy’s got you, baby boy,” Sherlock made a little squeak of delight as Daddy poured a cup of water over his head, placing a hand to protect his eyes. Sherlock relished every second of this- his mind was so slow and calm, the softness of daddy’s touches, the sweet smells. Soon, the bubbles were gone, and so was Sherlock in a manner of speaking. Daddy chuckled and pulled the plug, fetching the fluffiest towel known to man and wrapping Sherlock up. John pulled Sherlock by the hand into the attached bedroom. He led Sherlock to the bed, sitting him down gently, stoking a wet curl that clung to his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock was floating. His whole body was floating, feeling so many things and thinking nothing at all. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Daddy's got you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>There was a deep warmth in his tummy, and all he wanted was to make his daddy proud, to earn more kisses and more touches. To be a good boy. Sherlock hadn’t even noticed John’s absence when the door creaked open, John carrying a set of pyjamas. Sherlock grinned wide, and John returned the smile, dressing Sherlock as the younger man hummed to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What tune is that, Sherlock?” Sherlock looked up dreamily, barely understanding daddy’s question. John smiled to himself at how quickly and deeply Sherlock had gone into his headspace. It was going to be a rough drop coming down, but for now he enjoyed every minute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mozart,” Sherlock whispered, “Violin Concerto No. 3”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like the violin, darling?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I play, sir,” John smiled and raised his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s wonderful Sherlock, I can’t wait until we get your things tomorrow, and you can play me something, hm?” Sherlock’s eyes began to water, his chin quivering and his fingers grasped tightly around his towel. John hushed him and wiped his tears away, stroking his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D-don’t have a violin, s-sir,” He shut his eyes tight, trying to block out the bad memories. “Sold it, sir, sold it for bad things.” Sherlock waited, waited for John to yell, scream, throw him out. But he didn’t. John only stroked his hair some more and nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here comes the drop</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh, that’s alright, darling, no need for tears,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-you’re not,” Sherlock whispered, eyes full of guilt, “angry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why should I be angry, love,” John kissed Sherlock’s temple. “Disappointed? maybe. Concerned that you weren’t taking good care of yourself? definitely. But angry?” He looked him in the eyes meaningfully, “never at you, darling.” Sherlock choked out a sob, half relief, half self-hatred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m horrible, daddy. Absolutely, totally horrible, I’m not a good boy at all. I don’t deserve any of this, I’m wretched.” John gripped Sherlock’s shoulders tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, eyes on me,” John commanded, using his captain voice. “Don’t you ever, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span> say those things again, Sherlock I mean it. I will not tolerate it. You feel those things, you come to daddy, I will make it better, I promise. You will not speak that way of yourself, and you will not harm yourself under this roof, am I understood?” Sherlock was stunned silent, and nodded quickly. “Good. Now let’s get you into these,” John pulled up the clothes and began to dress Sherlock, pulling up silk pyjama bottoms and one of John’s band t-shirts over his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Specials. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sherlock felt himself sinking inside, surrounded by John's sweet smell, sinking way down low, wobbling on tears. John noticed immediately and pulled the young man into his arms, holding him like a child on his hip, a tangled mess of limbs and dark brown curls latched onto his side. Sherlock tucked his nose in John’s neck, sobbing quietly into his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh, that’s a good boy, Sherlock, let it all the yucky feelings out, my love.” John carefully set Sherlock into bed, tucking the enormous duvet around them both. He planted a kiss on Sherlock’s forehead as he hiccuped softly, eyes closed sleepily. “Goodnight, Sherlock.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. i love you too, sherlock</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hiya! hope this fic finds you well &lt;3<br/>also- brief mention of eating disorders and drug use<br/>love you all!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sherlock awoke slowly, soft warm light filtering through windows. He fluttered his eyes open and sat up dreamily. He didn’t remember at first where he was- but memories of the night before came quickly, he was surrounded by the sweet smell of <em> John. </em>Gunpowder, wool, whiskey and strawberries. Heaven. Sherlock heard the sound of the shower turning off and the door opening. John stood in the doorway, toothbrush tucked in his cheek, towel wrapped around his waist, tanned skin glistening with droplets of water. Sherlock bit his lip and leaned back on his arms, flinging his head back and giving John sexyeyes.</p><p>“Hi,” He said sweetly, John laughed. God Sherlock was gorgeous. </p><p>“Hi,” John grinned, “Sleep good?”</p><p>“Yes, daddy,” Sherlock bit his cheek coyly, “I slept great.”</p><p>“That’s good, baby,” John twirled a strand of chocolate hair in his fingers, eyes full of care and concern “you had a bit of a drop last night,” </p><p>“I did?” Sherlock said, voice soft and small. John nodded and caressed his cheek with his thumb. </p><p>“I think we need to talk, baby,” John murmured, pulling Sherlock out of bed, “go wash up and get dressed, your clothes are clean and folded in the washroom.” Sherlock nodded and headed to the bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth with the brand new bamboo toothbrush. He dressed quickly, feeling strange in his dressy outfit from the restaurant. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled daddy's t-shirt back on, breathing in the calming scent. He quickly exited to the sitting room, smelling something yummy. </p><p>“Breakfast,” John called from the kitchen and Sherlock shuffled over, still drowsy with sleep. “Figured you’d like something sweet,” He winked. A plate of waffles sat waiting for Sherlock at the bench, so he slid on to a stool and dug his fork in, mindlessly taking a bite. His stomach turned and he slowed down. <em> Don’t be a pig, Sherlock </em> . He put his fork down and swallowed numbly. John turned around and smiled, watching this gorgeous creature- god, he wanted to know everything about Sherlock- the way his hair stuck up to the side in the morning, the teeniest freckles that littered his shoulders, the colour(s!) of his eyes. John licked his lips, <em> his boy. </em>All his. Jesus, he was perfect. </p><p>“So I thought we’d go over the rules this morning, does that sound alright?” Sherlock nodded, eyes on his plate, prodding at strawberries. “Hey, y’alright, baby?” </p><p>“Yes, sir, just thinking,” John smiled. Sherlock took one more bite before pushing his plate away. “I’m not very hungry, daddy,” John furrowed his eyebrow but took his plate. Sherlock fiddled with his fingers nervously before John picked him up, hands under his armpits, setting him on his hip, hand firm under his bum. He carried him to the living room, setting him down gently before reclining his armchair. He looked at Sherlock sweetly and patted his thigh. Sherlock bit his lip and crawled into his daddy’s lap, legs in between John’s legs, hands folded in front of him delicately. John took Sherlock’s hand in his own, tracing over his long fingers and sharp knuckles. “I thought we’d write them down together, does that sound okay, sweetheart?” Sherlock nodded, suddenly shy. John chuckled and pulled out a pen and pad. “Here, you already know this one,” John wrote at the top,</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><b><em>Sherlock is not to say mean things about himself, hurt himself, or purposefully mistreat himself. When Sherlock has a problem, he will come to daddy immediately.</em></b></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>John continued writing, and added a few more. </p><p> </p><ul>
<li>
<b><em>No lying or secrets. Daddy will know the truth. Daddy cannot trust you if you don’t trust him.</em></b><b></b>
</li>
<li><b><em>You will show daddy respect, especially in public by behaving well and calling him sir, captain or Daddy</em></b></li>
<li><b><em>You will continue in University and get the good marks daddy knows you're smart enough to get.</em></b></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em><strong>Sherlock will only speak to other men with daddy’s permission, this does not include your work or school.</strong></em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em><strong>Always tell Daddy where you are. </strong></em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em><strong>If you want something, tell daddy. Expense is not a problem.</strong></em></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>“Do those sound alright, honey?” Sherlock nodded gingerly. John continued. </p><ul>
<li><b><em>Sherlock will obey daddy, but always will have his colours  if anything is too much.  Green = everything is alright, Yellow= I need to pause and slow down, Red= Full Stop. Sherlock should not misuse his colours, if he does, a serious discussion will be in order. </em></b></li>
</ul><p> </p><ul>
<li><b><em>No alcohol or drugs- if you are tempted you will tell daddy immediately, and he will make it better.</em></b></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><em><strong>Sherlock will eat at least two full meals a day.</strong></em></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>Sherlock tensed and John rubbed a circle in his back. Those two were going to be harder for him, John knew that. </p><p> </p><ul>
<li><b><em>Good behavior results in rewards. Bad behavior results in punishments. Sherlock will trust daddy to know what's best.</em></b></li>
<li><em><strong>Sherlock will remember that Daddy loves him. Daddy will do his absolute best to provide for, protect and treasure you. </strong></em></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>“Anything you wanna add, baby?” John murmured as Sherlock read over the list intently. He nodded and took the pen, writing in loopy cursive, </p><p> </p><p> </p><ul>
<li><b><em>Daddy will give Sherlock unlimited snuggles and pet his hair.</em></b></li>
</ul><p> </p><p> </p><p><b>“</b>Oh that goes without saying, sweetheart.” John smiled and pet Sherlock’s nape, planting a kiss on the crown of his head. </p><p>Sherlock's lips turned into a shy smile and he wrapped his arms around John’s neck, tucking his nose into his shirt and whispered, “I love you, daddy,” </p><p>John chuckled again, Sherlock filing away the sensation in his hardrive- the deep vibrations of warmth that filled him before his daddy said softly, “I love you too, Sherlock.”</p>
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